


All I Think About (Is You)

by Moriartystrustywestwood



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU, Justice League (2017), Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth Ships It, Awkward Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Holding each other and working out their crap, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartystrustywestwood/pseuds/Moriartystrustywestwood
Summary: Clark fell head first into people, and it didn’t take long for them to leave a mark on his heart. He couldn’t deny that after last night Bruce had left a chip on his heart. Sometimes, Clark forgot that his heart wasn’t as invincible as the rest of him.
Relationships: Batman/Superman, Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Martha Kent & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 29
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Full disclosure before you start this fic: I know pretty much nothing about the DCU. The last DC movie I watched was Man of Steel. I just really like these characters and my best friend who ships SuperBat got this idea in my head and BAM! This fic happened. So, if characters are OOC or things don't match what happened in the movie, it is all my fault. Please be gentle with me.

Clark didn’t know why he was surprised. He could see it coming ever since he had been brought back from the dead and Lois had seen him lash out from the birthing pit madness. He didn’t blame her, really. It was so much to take in: his alien-ness, his death and then his resurrection, only to see him at his worst. He shouldn’t have been surprised when 3 months after his return from the dead, Lois sat him down, told him she just couldn’t do this anymore, gave him back his mother’s ring and kissed his cheek in goodbye tearfully. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it still hurt like his chest had a giant gaping hole in it again. 

Maybe because Lois had always felt like Clark’s one chance to be… human. To come home after a long night of saving the world, take off his suit, kiss someone who loved him and not be Superman anymore. He had foolishly imagined buying a house with her after they got married, a house that had room for a nursery. He had imagined a life with her, a family where he could be normal like everyone else. 

But Clark was never going to be normal. Ever since he was five years old and accidentally ripped his mother’s drapes right off the wall, he was always going to be Superman. 

So Clark had let her go. He had given Lois one last kiss to the forehead, memorized the smell of her strawberry scented hair, and then had left, flying off into the night. It wasn’t until Clark had made 3 passes around the Earth that he realized he had nowhere to go. He had no home anymore, his Clark Kent life was gone. The only place left for him was his mother’s, and he couldn’t be there. He loved his mom, but he always had to put on a brave face around her and pretend everything was fine, and he just couldn’t do that right now. 

After a while, Clark realizes he has drifted over to Gotham, to Batman’s city. He and Bruce were on civil ground now after his resurrection and defeating Steppenwolf together with the League. Also, it was hard to hate a man who had bought a whole bank just to help his mom keep the family farm, even though Clark suspected Bruce did it out of guilt more than anything. 

He had been surprised to learn that while he had been ‘dead’ that Bruce had been the one to repair Superman’s reputation with the world, and help Lois and his mother out. He had also been the one to do all the research into how to resurrect him and put that plan into action.

So, Clark had forgiven him. It’s not like he didn’t understand why Bruce had done it… Clark had been more than a little afraid of himself too sometimes, especially after Zod. He didn’t know why it comforted him knowing there was someone out there that could stop him, if needed. 

Clark extends his hearing over the city until he hears the tell-tale familiar sound of reinforced kevlar hitting flesh coming from the docks. He floats closer and sees masked goons with automatic weapons firing into the night. 

“Where is he? Where’s the bat?” One of the goons is shouting, spinning around trying to see in the dark.

There’s a ripple sound from what Clark assumes is Bruce’s cape as he descends out of nowhere in the night, pouncing on the goons like a stalking panther. Clark can’t help but watch, memorized. Bruce moves surprisingly gracefully and strikes with quick precision, taking out most of the goons before they can even react. For someone who is human and has no powers to speak of, Bruce fights as Batman like he’s as invincible as Clark is. 

One of the goons manages to break away from the rapidly dropping pack, and aim his gun right at Bruce who is busy fighting. Clark reacts without thought. He uses his superspeed and lands in front of Bruce to take the spray of bullets from the gun. They clatter and shatter off his suit harmlessly, and the goon startles back in shock. There’s a suspended moment of silence as all the leftover goons freeze and stare at the sudden appearance of Superman in their mist. 

“Run. Now.” Clark orders, making sure to make his eyes glow slightly red. 

The goons scatter like rats into the night leaving just him, Bruce and the knocked out goons behind. Clark powers down his plasma eyes and turns to Bruce, who’s black smudged eyes are looking at him neutrally from the eye gaps in his cowl.

“Superman. You know my suit is close to bulletproof, right?” Is Bruce’s greeting, all raspy garbled from the suit. 

“But not totally. You’re welcome.” Clark nearly rolls his eyes. Why must Bruce insist on being a dickish lone wolf? 

Bruce only grunts and then goes about gathering up the knocked out goons and zip tying them. 

“What are you doing in my city?” Bruce asks. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you could claim an entire city for yourself.” Clark scoffs. 

Bruce gives him a glare that would probably scare the pants off anyone else. 

“Shouldn’t you be in Metropolis?” Bruce grumbles. 

A stab of pain twists in his chest, and he feels himself visibly deflate. 

“It’s not my home anymore.” He murmurs. 

Bruce blinks and looks at him, and Clark doesn’t know what about him is obvious, but he can tell Bruce knows what has happened when his eyes slightly widen in surprise. 

“Ah.” Is all Bruce says, his mouth doing something complicated before it neutralizes again. 

Clark winces, waiting for the sympathy - or worse, pity - but it doesn’t come. 

“I have to get these guys to the GCPD, but I will be free after. If you want company, you can wait at the manor until I get back.” Bruce offers. 

Clark is surprised by Bruce’s genuine sounding offer. They’ve never really been friends, but maybe this an olive branch from Bruce to try. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Clark finds himself smiling tiredly. 

“Alfred will be ready for you. I will see you later.” And with that Bruce gathers up the goons, aims his grapple gun and zips off into the darkness. 

Clark stands there momentarily before he shakes himself and floats off into the sky towards Wayne Manor. Bruce rebuilt it fairly quickly from the fire, but it looks nice regardless. Clark lands at the front door and awkwardly knocks. After a moment the door opens and an older man who Clark assumes is Alfred stands there. 

“Master Kent. So wonderful to have you here. I am Alfred, Master Wayne’s butler.” Alfred greets with a small bow. 

“Nice to meet you.” Clark smiles awkwardly. He’s not used to such formality and british properness. He feels abruptly very plain here, used his own farm life and eating at Jo’s diner. 

“I have prepared some supper, if you are hungry.” Alfred offers. 

“Um, sure, that’d be nice.” Clark agrees, even though he doesn’t need to eat and he suspects Alfred knows this. 

“Very good, Sir. Follow me.” Alfred stands aside to let Clark come in, closing the door behind him. 

Clark follows Alfred through the fancy halls to a dimly lit giant dining room and sits at a set spot that Alfred offers him. Alfred then leaves and returns with a steaming plate of steak and vegetables that both looks and smells delicious. And even though he doesn’t need to eat, Clark happily digs in and nearly moans at the taste. 

“This is amazing!” He praises. Much better than Jo or his mom ever made, but he’ll never tell either of them that. 

“Thank you, Sir. I must say it is nice to have someone to appreciate my cooking. Master Wayne so often tries to live off nothing but air and coffee.” Alfred comments, sounding both fond and exasperated at Bruce. 

“You’ve known him a long time then?” Clark asks. He doesn’t really know much personally about Bruce. 

“Since he was born. His parents hired me a long time ago, and I became his guardian when they died when Master Wayne was 10 years old.” Alfred says. 

“Oh. That must have been a very painful time for him.” Clark swallows painfully, remembering how he had felt when his father was swept away into the tornado. He had known Bruce’s parents had been killed, but it felt different hearing it from Alfred then reading about it on the internet.

“It was, though he didn’t like to show it. He has always been very stoic, even before he donned the cowl.” Alfred looks melancholy. 

“Though I must admit I am pleased he seems to be making friends now.” Alfred gives him an amused smile. 

“I’m not sure we’re friends yet… but I think we’re getting there.” Clark smiles in return. 

“I am glad to hear it, Master Kent.” Alfred really does sound happy about it. 

A tinkling alarm from an electronic watch on Alfred’s wrist goes off. 

“Excuse me, Master Kent, it appears Master Wayne has returned to the cave. I will return with him later.” Alfred bows and leaves to go greet Bruce downstairs. 

Clark finishes his meal and manages to navigate his way to the kitchen to clean his dishes. His mom had always taught him to be a polite guest and clean up after himself. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Clark startles when he hears Bruce behind him. 

“I kind of have to. My ma would be disappointed if I didn’t.” Clark responds with a small chuckle. 

“Oh, he cleans and he is polite! I like him, Master Bruce.” Comes Alfred’s pleased voice. 

“Of course you do.” Bruce sighs, but Clark can hear the amusement there.

Then, to Clark’s surprise, Bruce rolls up his dress shirt sleeves and takes a towel to dry the dishes beside him. Clark then becomes very aware that he is standing in Bruce Wayne’s kitchen in his full Superman suit, doing the dishes and Bruce is wearing his usual clothes and is helping dry. He abruptly feels out of place, and even more aware of his situation. Clark had no home, no regular clothes, no money, and no human life anymore. He was always going to be Superman now. 

Bruce must sense his sudden shift in mood, and to Clark’s surprise, he brushes his arm against his in a caring gesture. 

“Alfred, would you set up the living room for us, please?” Bruce asks. 

“Certainly, Master Bruce. Would you like your supper there as well, Sir?” It’s a thinly veiled shot that even Clark recognizes and grins slightly at. 

“If you must.” Bruce sighs deeply. 

“Splendid, Sir.” And with that Alfred takes out another plate of steak and vegetables from a warming plate and then leaves for the living room. 

“He’s certainly… sassy.” Clark comments. 

To Clark’s surprise again, a real genuine laugh comes from Bruce’s chest. Clark doesn’t think he’s ever heard him laugh before. It’s… nice. 

“That’s an understatement.” Bruce says, amused. 

They finish with the dishes and then Bruce leads him to the living room where a fire is started in the fireplace, and Bruce’s meal is waiting on the table beside the long expensive looking black couch. 

“Is black your favourite colour or something?” Clark asks, amused as he sits down on the couch. 

“It is certainly an underrated colour.” Bruce says as he sits also by his waiting plate and starts on his meal.

“Personally, I am a fan of blue.” Clark grins. 

“Noted.” A ghost of a smile flits on Bruce’s face. 

They chat aimlessly as Bruce eats, about little things that they hadn’t known about each other and wasn’t too personal that it felt uncomfortable to share. When Bruce finishes his meal, he goes to a side table filled with expensive liquor and brings over a bottle of scotch and two glasses. 

“Would you like some? Does this even affect you?” Bruce asks as he offers Clark a glass. 

“No it doesn’t, but sometimes I like to drink and pretend it does.” Clark takes the offered glass. 

So, they drink and talk. By the fourth round, Bruce is looking flushed and loose, and is smiling much more. Clark finally really notices how handsome he is, with his soft tousled dark chestnut hair and the pink flush to his cheeks that highlights his blue eyes. His sleeves are still pushed up, and Clark can see his defined arm muscles move when he gestures to make a point. 

Clark has never really let himself notice other people like this in awhile. He’d been happy with Lois, so he had stopped noticing when he found people attractive. But now he was allowed to notice and well… Clark could certainly understand how Bruce managed to always snag himself a model or two at every event he went to. 

“Clark.” Bruce’s sudden change in tone has Clark snapping back to reality. 

“Yes?” Clark hopes he hadn’t just been caught ogling. 

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry for what I did. I never really managed to say it before.” Bruce says sorrowfully. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I forgive you. I rushed to a conclusion on you too, and I didn’t act rationally either. Besides, I don’t blame you for being afraid of me. Sometimes I’m afraid of myself too.” Clark admits morosely. 

“How you were after the birthing pit… that wasn’t you, you know that right? It was an expected side effect, you can’t blame yourself for it.” Bruce says gently.

“It’s not just that. Ever since I was young, I knew I was different. My ma would always tell me she didn’t care and that I was her son, but my dad…. he was different. I could tell sometimes he was afraid of me, of what I could do. When I first got my plasma eyes, that’s when I really could tell. He was afraid for the whole world, after that. He would tell me to hide my powers all the time, never wanted me to use them after that. Even made me just stand there and watch as he died. It hurt… knowing my dad was afraid of me, when I loved him. I guess that fear has always stuck with me.” Clark confesses quietly. 

“I thought that I would never have to worry about that with Lois. She knew what I was, and loved me. But when she saw me after I came back… she was afraid of me too. She hid it well, like my dad did, but I could tell. So if she could be afraid, how could I blame you for being afraid of me when you knew nothing about me?” Clark smiles bitterly. 

Bruce is so quiet and Clark is afraid to look to see what he looks like right now. Clark doesn’t know why he confessed all that truth to someone who has barely started to trust him, but he had felt the need for Bruce to know this. To know that Clark was afraid of Superman too, of what he could potentially do to this place that he loved but would never really be a part of. He’d always be a lonely, homeless alien, and would never have that normal life he’d dreamed of. 

Clark startles when he feels a warm comforting hand on his shoulder. He blinks, looking up to see Bruce has moved close and is smiling sadly. 

“I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore, not even when you were out of the pit.” Bruce states softly. 

“Well, I’m glad at least one person isn’t.” Clark laughs wetly, kind of wishing he could just curl up here and cry. 

“You’ll get there too, one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! How's this reading so far? Please let me know. This is my first fic in a LONG time and I'm really nervous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets a crush on Bruce and Alfred gives him the "Dad" stamp of approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is reading this fic, so why am I updating it? Who knows! *shrugs*

Clark blinks awake at the feeling of sunlight hitting his cheek. He sits up slowly, realizing he fell asleep on Bruce’s couch and that Bruce is asleep across from him as well. He looks much younger now, and much softer, the harsh ‘Batman’ lines all stripped away from his face. This is just Bruce, open and vulnerable, sleeping soundly next to someone he once feared enough to try and kill. It’s an overwhelming feeling, to know that Bruce really meant what he said last night: that he’s not afraid of him anymore. 

He doesn’t know when in the night they’d fallen asleep after continuing to talk after Clark’s emotional truth bomb, but Clark suspects it was somewhere near when the scotch bottle got close to empty. Clark really hopes he drank most of it, though he suspects this wouldn’t be Bruce’s first night of heavy drinking. 

Clark’s not used to sleeping again since coming back. It had felt too much like fading back into the black of death to him. He didn’t necessarily  _ need  _ sleep, but the less he had of it the more worn and mentally exhausted Clark felt. This is the first time in a while he’s felt more human, and less like Superman. 

The fire has long since died in the fireplace and the room is beginning to feel a bit chilly. There are no blankets in the room that Clark can see, so he gets up in search for one. He doesn’t have to go far until he runs into Alfred in the hallway. 

“Good Morning, Master Kent. Would you like breakfast?” Alfred asks, not seeming surprised to still see him here. 

“Maybe later, thanks. Do you happen to have a blanket though?” Clark asks. 

“Certainly, Sir, just a moment.” Alfred disappears down another hall, before returning with a soft blue cashmere blanket in hand and handing it to him. 

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.” Clark smiles, then turns back towards the living room. 

Bruce is still sleeping soundly when Clark returns and only stirs slightly when Clark gently lays the blanket over him. Up close now, Clark can see the shining streaks of silver in his hair from the faint light of the sun coming in past the drapes. Clark can’t help but gently move a lock of hair from his face, and then make sure the blanket is wrapped around him. 

Mentally shaking himself, Clark turns to leave and then freezes when he sees Alfred is standing there in the doorway, staring at him with an expression he has only seen once before. It had been on his mother’s face too, when he had brought Lois home to meet her and Lois had tenderly taken his hand at the table. 

Clark feels caught out and horribly exposed, like he’d done something way too overly sentimental. He feels the need to burst out  _ “It’s not like that!”  _ to explain himself, to show he was just paying back Bruce for his understanding and friendship last night. But Clark knows with a sinking realization in his stomach that it would only be a half-truth. 

Clark knew he fell hard and fast. First it had been Pete in Junior High, then Lana in High School, and then it had only taken a few days with Lois to kiss her. Clark fell head first into people, and it didn’t take long for them to leave a mark on his heart. He couldn’t deny that after last night Bruce had left a chip on his heart. Sometimes, Clark forgot that his heart wasn’t as invincible as the rest of him. 

“Would you like some breakfast now, Master Clark?” Alfred breaks the silence, his face carefully neutral once again.

“Sure.” Clark responds quietly, for lack of anything else to say. 

It isn’t until he’s sat back in the dining room, waiting for Alfred to return with breakfast that he finally realizes Alfred called him by his first name, like he did with Bruce. Whatever that meant. 

The pancakes Alfred eventually brings with real maple syrup taste like walnuts and vanilla, and are just as good as the steak from last night. Clark compliments Alfred again on his cooking. 

“Careful. Keep complimenting Alfred’s cooking, and he might not ever let you leave.” Comes Bruce’s sleepy amused voice from the doorway.

Bruce is still wearing the blanket around his shoulders and still looks just as young and open as he did sleeping. He gives Clark a genuine smile when their eyes meet, and Clark has to mentally focus to keep swallowing his pancake down and not choke. 

“Good Morning, Master Bruce. Might I add how refreshing it is to see you awake before noon.” Alfred greets. 

Bruce looks like he’s stuck between rolling his eyes or laughing.

“I’m sure. Might I also have some pancakes?” Bruce asks as he sits in a seat near Clark. 

“Certainly, Sir. Splendid choice to choose food for once after heavy liquor.” Alfred quips mildly, before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

Bruce chuckles under his breath and then turns to Clark. 

“Thanks for the blanket.” He says. 

“You’re welcome.” Clark doesn’t even bother asking him how he knew it was him and not Alfred. 

Alfred returns with Bruce’s pancakes and a cup of coffee, and sets it in front of him. 

“Sir, to remind you, you have a board meeting at noon today. I would suggest leaving at 11am if you wish to make an appearance.” Alfred informs Bruce. 

“I’ll be ready, thank you.” Bruce nods before digging into his breakfast. 

“Splendid, Sir. Call me when you are ready.” Alfred then takes Clark’s empty plate before he can stand up to go wash it again.

“No need, Master Clark. I need something to pass the time.” Alfred smiles, then disappears back into the kitchen with his cutlery and plate. 

Clark settles back into his seat and wonders what he should do now. He feels like he has intruded far too long into Bruce’s life right now. Bruce had originally just offered some company, but now he has stayed two meals and is still here. 

“You can stay here, if you want. I don’t mind.” Bruce says, and Clark wonders if he can secretly read minds or Clark’s thoughts are really that transparent. 

“No, I should go. Many world disasters to go stop.” Clark taps his suit’s symbol on his chest and chuckles without humor. 

“Well, you’re always welcome here, if you want. I always have a guest room ready. Even if I’m not here, just knock and Alfred will let you in. And if you ever want to talk again, I’m here for that too.” Bruce offers. 

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Clark smiles gratefully. And it does mean the world, to know that there is a place he can turn to if he needs it. 

“It’s no problem at all.” Bruce smiles back. 

Bruce finishes his breakfast and then leads Clark back to the front door to say goodbye. 

“Look, I really appreciate this, Bruce. And what you did for my ma, I never got to thank you for that.” Clark says. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that. Your mom, she’s a very nice woman.” Bruce smiles, but his eyes look sad, and Clark doesn’t know what puts that there. 

“Well, I agree with that.” Clark chuckles. 

“She wouldn’t mind seeing you more often. She worries.” Bruce says gently. 

“Yeah, I know.” Clark sighs deeply. He just doesn’t know how to talk to his mom anymore, all he can see in her face when she sees him now is how he had been dead for  _ two years  _ and his mother still looks at him sometimes like he’s a ghost. His mother had grieved him, her only son, and now he was back. Clark just didn’t know how to make it better for her, to make that residual grief fade for her. 

“I should get going. Thanks again.” Clark holds out his hand to shake. 

Bruce nods and takes his hand, and Clark misses its warmth the moment they part. Clark gives him one last nod before floating into the sky, extending his hearing to find a ship is currently sinking in the Atlantic before speeding off towards it leaving a sonic boom and a jet stream behind him. 

Bruce watches him go until Alfred appears by him in the doorway. 

“If I may say, Sir, I very much approve of you making friends with Master Clark. A cut above your usual acquaintances.” Alfred comments. 

“Less than 12 hours with him and he has won you over already?” Bruce smirks. 

“I am a very good judge of character, Sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, I'm a sucker for people lovingly putting blankets on people.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark has a rough week as Superman and takes up Bruce's offer to stay at his guest bedroom

Clark has a very busy week as Superman. It seems like a new disaster starts the second he stops the last one. By the end of the week the world seems to finally calm down for a moment, and Clark is mentally exhausted again. It feels like he will never get out of this suit again. Clark just wants to change into his old pair of fleece pants and plaid shirt, and curl up on his old couch and watch TV. But those things no longer existed anymore. 

He remembers then Bruce’s offer of his guest bedroom, and so he finds himself flying his way over to Gotham. Wayne manor is easy to spot, and Clark lands once again at the front doors and knocks. It only takes a minute for Alfred to answer. 

“Master Clark, how nice to see you again. Please, come in.” Alfred stands aside to let him in. 

“Master Wayne is out crime fighting tonight, so he won’t be in until later. Would you like something to eat?” Alfred offers. 

“No, thank you. Actually… I just really need some sleep right now, to be honest.” Clark smiles sadly. 

“Of course, Sir. The guest room is prepared for you, if you will follow me.” Alfred says softly. 

Clark follows him up the stairs and down a hall to a bedroom that’s probably bigger than his whole apartment had been. 

“There is an attached bathroom if needed, and sleeping clothes in the top drawer of the dresser should you prefer those to your suit.” Alfred informs him when Clark looks around the room. 

“Thank you, Alfred. I… thank you.” Clark doesn’t know what to say besides that, he’s just so overwhelmed and grateful.

“You are very welcome, Sir. Have a good rest.” Alfred smiles, then bows before taking his leave and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Clark wanders to the large bathroom, takes in the steam spa shower and decides to put it to use. He strips off his Superman suit for the first time in nearly a month, gets into the shower and blasts the warm sprays. It’s heavenly, it feels like months of tension and stress are washing away off his shoulders. He washes off with the expensive soap in the shower and tries not to notice how it smells like Bruce. 

When he’s done, he gets out and dries off with a soft towel, and then heads to the dresser to see what clothes he can wear. In the dresser are boxers, some soft pants and shirts, as well as socks. Clark notices all the shirts are various shades of blue. 

He pulls out a pair of boxers, then a pair of soft pants. He changes into them, then goes to the bathroom to pick up his suit and hang it up in the closet. He then goes to the king-sized bed, pulls up the sheets and sinks into the bed with a groan at how soft and ridiculously comfortable it is. He wraps the blankets over himself, turns into the pillow and is out like a light before he even realizes it. 

**-*-*-*-**

Clark slowly hazily comes back into awareness what feels like hours later, even though his internal clock still says its night. He isn’t sure what has woken him until his hearing picks up a familiar heartbeat. Clark turns towards the door, blinking away his sleep to see Bruce there in the open doorway to his room, his outline framed in the dark.

“Bruce?” Clark murmurs in question.

He sees Bruce’s outline freeze for a second like a deer caught in the light, before his body relaxes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Alfred said you were here, I was just checking in.” Bruce says quietly. 

“It’s ok. I just needed some rest, I hope you don’t mind.” Clark rubs his eyes and sits up against the headboard. 

“No, you can stay here anytime, as long as you like.” Bruce says. 

Clark expects him to leave then, but Bruce seems stuck there staring at him. Clark then becomes very aware that he is laying here in Bruce Wayne’s guest bed, and he isn’t wearing a shirt. Clark hopes the dark masks his blush. 

“Did you want to come in? - To talk, I mean.” Clark hurries to add when he realizes how that sounded. 

“No, sorry, I’ll let you get back to sleep. Goodnight.” Bruce seems to shake himself before moving himself to leave. 

“Goodnight, Bruce.” Clark smiles. 

Bruce nods, then closes the door. Clark hears him move across the hall and enter another room. Was his bedroom across from Clark’s? And why does that thought stir something in his chest? 

Clark shakes himself and lays back down on the pillow to go back to sleep. It comes less easily than the first time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter this update. As I was writing out the chapter, this part didn't really fit with the other plot point I wanted to start so this had to get separated out for the sake of my sanity. The next chapter should be longer and have some more Sexual Tension, as a treat!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce asks Clark for some help testing out a suit prototype and Clark is Swooning. Also, Bruce is momentarily an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! As promised, here is a longer chapter. Sorry if the fighting in this fic is kinda blah. Turns out just playing the Arkham video games does not mean you will be good at writing people hitting each other.

When Clark next wakes up, he knows that this time it is morning. He stretches out, feeling refreshed, before getting up. He makes the bed up again, then gets a shirt and more formal pants from the dresser to change into, as well as socks. He finds some shoes in the closet and wears those as well as he heads out of the room to find his way back down to the dining room. 

“Good Morning, Master Clark. You are just in time for breakfast.” Alfred greets when he enters. He sees that Bruce is already up and dressed at the table with a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

“Morning, Alfred.” Clark smiles as he takes his old spot at the table by Bruce. 

“Sleep well, Sir?” Alfred asks. 

“Yes, I did, thank you.” Clark nods. 

“I am pleased to hear that. I will be right back with your breakfast, Sir.” Alfred heads off to the kitchen. 

“I think he’s adopted you.” Bruce chuckles as he sips his coffee. 

“Well, I’m glad he likes me. I like him too.” Clark grins. 

“I suspect he’s glad of the company. I’m not often home much anymore.” Bruce says. 

“You don’t bring anyone home?” Clark asks automatically, then wants to punch himself at his presumptuousness. 

“Not anyone Alfred’s keen to meet for very long.” Bruce chuckles without humor. Clark suspects he means the many models he’s known for bedding and leaving. 

“Sorry, that was a rude question to ask. It’s none of my business.” Clark apologizes, feeling like an idiot. 

“It’s alright. I know I have a… reputation.” Bruce shrugs as he takes another gulp of coffee. 

“I don’t care about that, just so you know.” Clark feels the need to say. 

Bruce looks at him and Clark feels flayed open from the strength of his blue eyes. Alfred returning with his breakfast and breaking Bruce’s stare is almost a welcome relief. 

“Here you are, Master Clark. I’ll leave you both to it.” Alfred bows and leaves after setting his meal down in front of him.

Clark digs in as an excuse to do something other than stare at Bruce again.

“I’ve been making some modifications to my suit for a while. Would you want to train with me and help me test it out?” Bruce suddenly asks.

“Sure, if you want me to.” Clark agrees in surprise. 

“It would be helpful to see how it holds up against someone who is stronger than the average human.” Bruce smiles. 

“More than happy to help.”

They finish up their breakfasts, helping Alfred clean up after, then head down to Bruce’s cave below the manor. Clark has never seen it before, and he must say he is very impressed at the massive space complete with a giant computer set up, a practice fight ring with boxing equipment, and Bruce’s batmoblie and flyer. There also appears to be a changing room, emergency wash station and a small surgery room. Clark tries not to think about how often Bruce needs to use that last one. 

“I’m just going to go change into the suit. I’ll be right back.” Bruce interrupts his foreboding thoughts on Bruce’s mortality. 

“Sure.” Clark nods, trying not to look too grim. He suddenly isn’t sure about practicing with Bruce anymore. The last time he was fighting him… he didn’t want to think about  _ that _ again. 

Bruce heads off into the changing room and Clark stands there by the practice ring breathing deeply, trying to remain calm. This wasn’t like last time, they were friends now, nothing to worry about. Right? About 5 minutes later and Clark’s feeling much calmer, he hears Bruce come out from the changing room again. Clark turns to look, and all his careful calm goes right out the window. 

It’s built with much the same materials as the last suit Bruce used to fight him, but this time it is much sleeker and more… form fitting. Bruce has also changed the colour scheme for the suit to a much deeper black with thin silver accenting that give it an almost decorative look. He moved much more gracefully in it than the older bulky one. He looked beautiful in it. 

“So? First thoughts?” Clark tries not to visibly shiver hearing Bruce’s deeper altered voice through the cowl’s voice scrambler. 

“Good. Um, sorry, it looks great.” He hates how affected he sounds. Clark hopes furtively that he’s not visibly blushing. 

“I’m glad the design worked out. I was not sure about the silver, but Alfred said it looked nice.” Bruce looks at the silver accenting on the computer pad on his right arm. 

“He was right about that.” Clark tries not to obviously stare at the thin silver accenting that travels down the suit, outlining Bruce’s muscles through the suit. He remembers how Pete used to laugh and say to ‘think pure thoughts’ if they saw someone really attractive, and now Clark’s trying not to burst into nervous giggles. 

“Are you ready?” Bruce asks as he hops up into the practice ring. 

“As I’ll ever be.” Clark tries not to sound too nervous as he too gets into the ring. 

They take up ready stances across from each other in the ring, and there is a moment of suspension before Bruce strikes first. He sends a quick hook to Clark’s right side which Clark blocks easily, then he sweeps back with a swish of his cape before striking at Clark’s left side with a graceful kick. Clark attempts to make a grab for Bruce’s leg, but the moment his hand closes on Bruce’s ankle, Bruce moves forward so fast that the next thing Clark knows, Bruce has managed to escape from his hold and land on his back, sending Clark to hit the floor of the ring face first. Bruce presses his arm to his neck to hold him down and then leans by Clark’s ear and chuckles. 

“You aren’t supposed to let me win.” Bruce says with humour, his breath warm on Clark’s cheek. 

“I wasn’t trying to.” Clark blushes, embarrassed he fell so quickly. 

“Then maybe this was a good idea. You need some practice.” Bruce lets him up off the floor, and he doesn’t sound mocking, more amused. 

They take up ready stances across from each other again, and this time Clark actually tries to get a hit in first and manages to land a few blows before he panics that he might end up really hurting Bruce. Bruce uses his momentary hesitation to get him flying backwards onto the mat with Bruce pinning him down. 

“You’re afraid to hurt me.” Bruce says quietly. 

“I have before.” Clark swallows tightly, remembering how after the birthing pit he had sent Bruce flying through the air to hit the ground with a crunch. 

“That wasn’t you. I told you, I trust you.” Bruce’s blue eyes pierce him again. 

Clark suddenly becomes very aware of their position and how close they are. It would be so easy to just lean his head forward slightly and brush their lips together. From his intense look, Clark thinks Bruce might even  _ want  _ him to. 

_ ‘Time to be brave’  _ Clark thinks, his eyes fluttering closed, moving his lips up… to hit air. 

Blinking in surprise, Clark realizes Bruce has disappeared off him and is now a silvery shadow on the other side of the ring. 

“So, this was a good practice! How about some lunch?” Bruce says very loudly, and even with the voice modulator Clark can hear his nervousness. His heartbeat is also very erratic. 

“Um… ok.” Clark agrees, confused at the sudden mood change. Had he imagined that look Bruce gave him? 

“I’ll call up to Alfred to get us some sandwiches in the living room. I’m just going to change. Meet you up there.” And with that Bruce practically evaporates from the ring in his speed to get to the changing room. 

Clark lets out a frustrated breath and gets up off the floor of the ring. He may be out of practice when it comes to flirting from men, but he is pretty sure he wasn’t that oblivious. Bruce had given him a pretty clear sign that he liked Clark, so why had he fled from a kiss? Clark ponders it the whole way back up to the manor’s living room. 

***-*-*-***

Alfred brings in a whole platter full of sandwiches into the living room and gives Clark a bright smile as he sets it down on the table. 

“Master Bruce has never stuck to a complete eating schedule before you. I do not know how he manages to bring down criminals on an empty stomach.-“ Alfred shakes his head fondly, then asks, “Is he still in the cave changing?” 

“Yes. I think he’s avoiding me.” Clark very nearly pouts. 

“Avoiding you? Oh dear, what has the foolish boy done now?” Alfred sighs, exasperated.

“I thought we had something there, for a moment… but I guess I misread it.” Clark shrugs. 

“I am fairly sure you misread nothing, Master Clark. Master Bruce just has a habit of fleeing the second someone tries to love him back.” Alfred smiles sadly.

“He has very tough walls, Master Clark. You will need a fair bit of patience and perseverance to get over them.” Alfred winks before bowing and leaving the living room.

Clark contemplates that as he waits for Bruce to return. He understands that Bruce still suffered from the trauma of his parents death all those years ago, and that committing to anyone in their line of work is a huge risk. He still remembers the terror he felt when Lois had ended up entangled in the whole Zod mess. But Clark knows it's better to have someone in your life you can come home to than to be alone. 

“Alfred’s made a feast again, has he?” Bruce’s sudden voice interrupts Clark’s musings. 

Clark looks up to see Bruce moving sheepishly to sit on the couch beside him. It is so strange to see Bruce so nervous with how confident he is as Batman, but he guesses that just like Clark, his true self under the superhero persona is much more vulnerable than the public gets to see. 

“He likes to see you keeping a consistent diet.” Clark says with a small grin. 

Bruce grins back momentarily before sighing wearily and running a hand through his hair. 

“Look, Clark… I’m sorry, about before. I just have never let myself actually be with someone who I could want something… long term with. I’ve had lots of meaningless relationships before, but I have never let myself have something  _ real  _ before. I just can’t lose anyone like I lost my parents again.” Bruce hangs his head sorrowfully. 

“I get that, I do. Love for people like us… it’s dangerous, and it hurts sometimes. But I think it’s better to have someone, in the end. When Lois left, I was completely alone. I didn’t have anywhere to go, nowhere to be myself and no one to talk to until you let me stay here. You and Alfred have helped me, more than you can know.” Clark lays a gentle hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

Bruce smiles a wobbly smile.

“You’ve helped me too, more than you know. When you were gone and your mom told me about all the things you had done, all the people you had saved… it made me want to be better. I’m trying to be better, and I do want to share my life with you. I’m just still scared that something will happen to you again, and it will be my fault.” Bruce admits. 

“I’m scared too. I never want to hurt you again either. Maybe together, we can be less scared?” Clark laughs wetly, feeling his eye prickle. 

Bruce wipes the wetness from his eyes and then strokes his cheek with his thumb. 

“I think we can try.” He murmurs, then leans forward. 

Their lips meet for a wonderful second that sends a warm jolt into Clark’s chest, and then an alarming beep sounds from Bruce’s watch. 

“Oh for the love of-!” Bruce laments, giving Clark an apologetic look, before checking what has set off his crime alert. 

An abrupt frown crosses Bruce’s face, sending worry through Clark. Bruce leaps up, grabbing a TV remote off the table and turning on the TV in the room. The local Gotham news flicks on, and a red ‘Breaking News’ banner highlights an aerial footage of Arkham Asylum which appears to be smoking slightly from an explosion. 

“Breaking news today: The criminal known as Scarecrow has set off a small explosion to the south wall of Arkham Asylum, and countless inmates are now escaping the facility.” A news reporter informs the audience as the news chopper circles. 

“Oh shit. Not again!” Bruce curses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inmates breaking out of Arkham? That never happens! *Studio audience laugh*
> 
> Thanks again to everyone supporting this fic, it means the world to me. Writing in a fandom you are not comfortable in, alone without a beta, and while also attending full time post-secondary education is A LOT, so every kudos and comment is like a hug for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark team up to get the inmates contained at the Arkham breech, but Scarecrow may have them outsmarted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Scarecrow the villain of my fic because I still have a huge crush on Cillian Murphy as Scarecrow? Maybe so.

“Clark, I’m so sorry, I have to deal with this.” Bruce turns to him in apology. 

“It’s ok. I’ll go with you.” Clark smiles. 

“Really?” Bruce blinks in surprise.

“Yeah. Looks like you’ll need all the help you can get. I’ll meet you in the cave after I get my suit.” Clark gives him a quick kiss to the cheek before rushing off to get his suit from upstairs. 

By the time Clark grabs his suit, puts it on and heads back to the cave, Bruce is ready in his prototype suit. 

“I can fly us there, if you don’t mind. It will be much faster.” Clark holds open his arms in an offer. 

“Batman isn’t known for being carried around bridal style.” Even with the voice modulator, Clark can hear his amusement. 

“Well, there is a first time for everything.” Clark winks. 

Bruce sighs loudly, but lets Clark lift him up into his arms and wrap his cape around him as a protective barrier. Clark feels Bruce’s arms wrap securely around his neck and his face settles in his sternum. 

“Are you only agreeing to this in order to feel my chest?” Clark grins. 

“Shut up and fly, Superman.” Comes Bruce’s muffled laugh into his chest. 

“As you wish, Batman.” Clark chuckles, running to the open door of the cave and then taking off into the sky. 

**-*-*-*-**

Arkham is easy for Clark to spot in the sky with all the smoke, and he spots the stream of grey overall inmates making their way out of the hole in the facility and quickly over-running the security guards. Clark quickly drops he and Bruce into the middle of the fight and Bruce quickly leaps into action, passing Clark a bunch of zip ties. 

“I’ll help the guards, you try and wrangle up the rest of the inmates trying to get off the island!” Bruce calls, then leaps into the fray to get to the guards. 

Clark flies back up and uses his excellent vision to spot the inmates that have managed to make it past the chain link fence around the facility and are making their way to the one bridge path off the island. Clark quickly flies and lands in front of them, stopping their path. The inmates startle momentarily before advancing again, fists raised. 

They are almost laughably easy to dispatch and get tied up, Clark almost feels sorry for them as they slump in their ties as their momentary hope of freedom vanishes. Most of these folk aren’t bad people - just people who need some help. Gotham isn’t a kind city, and these people probably just turned to crime because they had nothing else. Clark gives them an extra moment to look at the sun beginning to lower over the Gotham bay before he grabs them to take them back to Arkham.

When he arrives back he finds that Bruce has managed to get the mess mostly wrangled back up again, save for a group of much more hardened criminals who are still putting up a fight. One has managed to get his hands on a large piece of rebar and is swinging wildly at Bruce, the metal hitting his suit with harmless loud clangs. Clark quickly flies forward and hits the guy to the ground, knocking the rebar from his hands. 

“Now who needs practice?” Clark grins at Bruce. 

Bruce just rolls his eyes and gets back to trying to take down the rest of the mob. Clark sets about to help zip tie the downed criminals, and he’s just about relaxing thinking that they have this all in hand. Then, out of the blue, a giant silver canister lands in the middle of the fight, spewing out a cloud of red gas into the crowd. 

Just like that, all Hell breaks loose. Everyone starts writhing and screaming, launching into attack at anything near them. Some people in binds scream and try to hit themselves against the ground. Everyone but Clark seems to suddenly be in a haze of fear. 

Clark can barely see anything in the red fog of gas, but he desperately tries to find what has happened to Bruce in the chaos. He extends out his hearing and finds Bruce’s heartbeat about 8 feet away, but it is pounding with the same adrenaline fuelled fear as what seems to have overtaken everyone else. He rushes to him and finds him prone on the ground, frozen, muttering words under his breath. 

“No, please, don’t kill them. It’s my fault, my fault… please. Mom… Dad.” Bruce is pleading. 

“Bruce, shhh, it’s me. You’re ok.” Clark takes Bruce’s cowled face in his hands. 

Bruce only looks blankly through him, not registering him, his mind only seeing the spectres that haunt him. 

Clark wishes he could stay with him, but he needs to get this insanity under control before these fear maddened criminals can make it off the island and hurt innocent people. Clark will have to make peace with only hearing Bruce’s heartbeat, and knowing he’s alive. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go help. I’ll be right back, I promise.” Clark gives him a quick kiss to his forehead before leaving him to fly back up into the sky to see where all the inmates have gone. 

He sees that a large group of inmates have managed to make it halfway to the bridge, but the Gotham City Police have finally arrived and blockaded the bridge. Clark flies over to the police line and spots who appears to be the man in charge giving orders. He’s an older man with a moustache who recognizes him as he flies up. 

“Superman! I thought you worked out of Metropolis?” The man, Commissioner Gordon according to his name tag, asks in surprise. 

“I’m here helping Batman. Look, there is a large group of Arkham inmates headed your way. Scarecrow dropped some sort of fear gas on them, so you’ll have to make sure no one breathes that in.” Clark quickly fills him in. 

“Damn. Ok folks, everyone put your gas masks and riot gear on, this is a high risk environment. Don’t take the masks off!” Gordon orders through the police radio and bullhorn. 

The police hurry to get their masks and gear on, and Clark flies to the group of inmates to buy them some time to get ready. The inmates are frenzied from the fear gas and are much more difficult to contain without hurting them, and Clark struggles to get them zip tied as the rest try and pile onto him. 

A small group of police led by Gordon finally make it his way, and together they manage to get a handle on the situation. 

“Do you have this? I need to get back and help Batman.” Clark asks Gordon after they have more than half of the group in custody. 

“Yeah, we got this. Go help the Bat.” Gordon gives him a thumbs up. 

Clark nods and goes to fly back to the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat, when he hears a sound that sends a wash of fear through him - a gunshot. 

Clark quickly flies up into the air, his vision focusing to where he left Bruce and his stomach plummets when he sees a man with a burlap mask standing over Bruce, a gun pointed at Bruce’s head, the end smoking slightly from a fired bullet. Bruce was shot, and there is a scent of copper blood in the air… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Posts this chapter, then runs and hides* I'M SORRY, DON'T HATE ME!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark rushes Bruce to Alfred to save his life after the gun shot.
> 
> TW: Very brief mention of suicidal thoughts in this chapter. I have highlighted this one line with bold ** if you want/need to skip this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brandishes this chapter at you like a bouquet of roses* Please forgive me!

“No, no!” Clark is sure he has never moved faster than he did to get to Bruce. 

He lands beside him so hard that the pavement cracks and the man in the burlap mask gets sent flying back, but Clark only has eyes for Bruce. Bruce, whose cowl is cracked down the right side with blood slowly leaking out. 

“Bruce, please.” Clark gently lifts him into his lap, his hands shaking. 

Bruce lets out a small pained groan, and Clark breathes in a relieved shaky breath. He’s alive! 

“You’re alive, oh thank goodness. I got you.” Clark presses his forehead to Bruce’s chest where he can finally focus enough to hear the slow but steady heartbeat there, and Clark lets some relieved tears slip free. 

He needs to get Bruce to some medical help if he wants to keep it that way. He has no idea how badly Bruce is injured under the cowl, and he doesn’t want to take it off to find out just in case the cowl is keeping pressure on the wound and preventing further bleeding. His first thought is to take him to a hospital, but then Bruce’s secret identity will be out of the bag because the hospital staff will need to take his cowl off. Then, he remembers: the surgery room at the cave! 

“Alfred. I have got to get you to Alfred.” Clark tells himself out loud, trying to calm himself down.

Clark carefully lifts Bruce back up into his arms again, and he hates how limp Bruce feels now compared to the tight snuggle they had before. He can hear that the GCPD has almost made it to Arkham, but Clark can’t afford to stick around. He can’t find the man who shot Bruce anymore either, but that will have to be a problem for later as well. Making sure that he has a tight hold on Bruce, he takes off into the air to speed to the cave. 

Arriving through the cave entrance, he finds Alfred already waiting at the ready, wearing gloves and a clothes' protector. His pale face is the only indication that he’s just as scared as Clark is. 

“The computer alerted me that there was a significant crack to Master Bruce’s suit. What happened?” Alfred hurries forward to get a better look at Bruce in his arms. 

“He was shot right in the head, there is a crack down the right side of the cowl. There’s blood. Alfred…” Clark tries not have his throat close up from the overwhelming emotions, but it’s difficult. 

“Take him into the surgery room and place him on the table.” Alfred orders calmly, trying to keep him from freaking out. 

Clark hurries into the surgery room and very gently places Bruce onto the table, and then hovers there, feeling absolutely useless. For once, his superpowers are no use here. He feels the warm, kind hand of Alfred land on his shoulder. 

“I have him, Clark. I will work better if you are out of the room. I have him, I promise.” Alfred murmurs. 

Clark doesn’t want to leave, afraid that if he lets Bruce out of his sight again that he really will die this time, but he knows he will just be Alfred’s way if he stays. So he nods numbly and makes his way back out of the room, and collapses onto the floor outside and leans up against the wall of the cave, just waiting in fear. He can only take comfort in the fact he can still hear Bruce’s heartbeat pumping away. 

It takes an hour, one of the most terrifying hours of Clark’s life, for Alfred to finally come out of the room with a tired smile. 

“He’s all fine, Master Clark. The new cowl managed to absorb most of the damage done by the close up gunshot, leaving only a shallow cut down the right side of his head and a minor concussion. Pesky wounds to the head always bleed more than normal wounds.” Alfred informs him. 

It feels like a huge weight lifts off Clark’s chest, and he can finally breathe. He gets up unsteadily to his feet and gives Alfred a happy hug. 

“Thank you, Alfred. I’m so sorry, I had to leave him alone to help, I couldn’t-.” Clark’s rambling is cut off by Alfred pulling back to take him by his shoulders and look at him firmly. 

“None of that, Master Clark. Master Bruce has always been independent, and wouldn’t have wanted you to mother hen him anyway. The fact he wanted you to come along at all is a big deal, more than you know. If you had not been there, he might not be here right now.” Alfred states, giving him a stern but kind look. 

Clark nods, his eyes wet, still feeling full of guilt anyway. 

“Can I see him?” He asks, needing to make sure Bruce is really ok with his own eyes. 

“Of course.” Alfred smiles and gently leads him into the surgery room. 

Bruce looks so fragile now, laying there on the surgery table without his suit on, with a bandage wrapped around his head. Clark is almost afraid to touch him, but his need to take Bruce’s hand in his outweighs that fear in the end. Bruce’s hand is warm in his, and he can feel the reassuring thump of his pulse in his wrist. Clark watches his chest rise and fall in his sleep, and he can’t hold back some more tears. 

“Master Bruce will be unconscious for sometime. Perhaps you should go clear your head, Master Clark. He will be safe in my care.” Alfred suggests, giving him a kind pat to his back. 

“Ok.” Clark sniffles, wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks. He gives Bruce’s hand a small kiss before letting go and rising unsteadily to his feet. 

“Here, take this. I will message you if his status changes.” Alfred hands him a small black burner phone. 

“Thank you.” Clark takes the phone, then rushes to fly back out of the cave. 

He needs to calm down, and there is only one person he wants to see right now.

-*-*-*-

The Kent farmhouse is a familiar landmark in the corn fields of Smallville, and when he lands on the gravel pathway to the front porch of his childhood home, his mother rushes out from the front door. Her hair is in that messy bun she puts it in when she’s baking, and there are streaks of flour all over her old apron. 

“Clark! Oh, my boy!” His mother wraps him her familiar bear hug and Clark has to try not to burst into tears right then. 

“Ma.” It’s all he can say as he collapses into her warm safe arms. 

“Oh dear, what’s wrong? Come inside, I got you.” His mother rushes to get him inside and plunk him down on their sofa in the living room, wrapping her old knitted afghan blanket around him tightly. 

“Now, what has you so upset? Is it Lois?” His mother asks as she rubs his back. 

Clark realizes then he never told her that they had ended their engagement months ago. He feels like a horrible son now. 

“Lo and I broke up months ago, Ma.” He tells her. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Is that what’s wrong?” His mother, to her credit, doesn’t get mad about him not informing her sooner. 

“No, it’s something else.” Clark shakes his head. 

“Alright. How about you start at the beginning then?” She gives him an encouraging smile. 

So, Clark tells her everything. The break-up with Lois, hanging out with Bruce, falling hard and fast for him, then them agreeing to give a relationship a try. He then tells her of the mess at Arkham, and how he had to leave Bruce, only for him to get shot. Clark finally breaks into tears then. 

****** “It was my fault, Ma. I left him to help, and he almost got killed! I couldn’t do anything to help, I felt so useless. I should have stayed dead.” Clark sobs. ******

“Clark Joseph Kent! Don’t you say that! You are my son, and I love you. You can’t always save everyone, but without you, maybe Bruce would have died instead. The world is better with you in it.” His mom states fiercely, poking him hard in the chest. 

“I’m sorry, Ma. You’re right, you’re always right.” Clark hugs her tightly in apology, feeling horrible for saying that after what his mom went through. 

“Of course I am, silly boy.” She chuckles wetly, patting him on the back. 

After they hug and get calmed down again, with help from his mother’s excellent raspberry tea, they sit back down on the sofa. His mom gives him a playful look.

“So, Mr.Wayne is where your heart lies now?” She grins. 

“Ma!” Clark blushes into his teacup. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining. He’s a nice man. Rich too, not that I care about that, but it is a nice plus.” She winks. 

“Ma…” Clark groans. 

“Ok, ok, I’ll stop teasing.” She laughs. 

“I’m not sure if it’s forever yet, but I want it to be. Can I ask, how did you know Pa was the one for you?” Clark asks her, curious. 

“I didn’t, at first. I actually didn’t like him at the first brush, but then I got to know him and realized what a good heart he had. After that, I was pretty smitten.” She smiles softly. 

“Look, Clark, you may not know right away if he’s The One, but if he is, I’ll approve. Every time he was here, helping Lois and I when you were gone… that man has a kind, good heart under the prickly outside.” She tells him, holding his hand. 

“Yeah, he does.” Clark squeezes her hand back with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! I wanted to give you this chapter much quicker because I was a little mean, so I wrote this instead of paying attention to my online classes this morning. Oh well! 
> 
> Unfortunately, the next chapter will take me a little longer to upload as I have a big exam coming up on Thursday, so you'll have to wait awhile. But at least you'll know Bruce is ok!


End file.
